Across the Attack of Zombies
by ti voglio bene
Summary: What would you do if the world was attacked by zombies? Well, my friend, Nagihiko and me, are kinda stuck in the middle. Not to mention, with surviours who have no clue. And, I forgot who said it, but, they told me to write everything down. So, here goes!


It was amazing how quickly the world went to hell.

I felt it all as it happened, of course, the shifting of power like the pressure of a thunderstorm in the air. It had filled my mind, the dull press of it pushing outward. I found myself wondering if this is what the rain felt like to Nagihiko-Nagihiko who despised water more than fire because fire was _his_, a part of him in the same way death was a part of me. It ached, the pressure of someone else's necromancy, and I could almost feel some sympathy towards Nagihiko for all the times I made him crawl out of bed when it was raining.

_Still_, I thought, _it's quite endurable_.

I glanced at Nagihiko and felt an awful swell of irritation fill me. Next time he whined about the rain, I would remember the aching pressure of someone else's necromancy, and I would remember how I functioned just fine despite it. I would make sure he remembered, too.

Nagihiko sighed, shifting from his crouched position and lowering the binoculars. "They sure do have this place pretty much surrounded," he said.

I looked out over the seething mass of corpses pressed against the hospital but didn't answer. We were safe enough on the roof. Besides, I had a necromantic power. Perhaps I couldn't turn the entire mob away, but if one or two came up here, I could deal with them. Even if Nagihiko would be no help at all, and several dozen of them managed to climb the ladder, I was faster, stronger, more intelligent than the rotting undead, and I had my knives.

I looked at him again, and he blinked, sensing my irritation. Nagihiko was useless in a fight, clumsy enough to make fighting with any sort of weapon a bad idea. He could shape shift, perhaps, the wolf's grace coming with its power and crushing jaws, but two problems presented themselves. First, biting the infected flesh could very well infect _him_, and second, fear would keep Nagihiko from shifting in the first place.

I sighed. "Well, I guess we're stuck here for now. We can try leaving when it gets dark. Their eyesight can't be any better than a human's."

Nagihiko's expression became doubtful. "Unless they're operating on something other than sight-what if they can't see at all?"

"We'll have to take that chance." I wasn't interested in staying here. Hospitals were for the dying and the dead, and while I should be the latter, it was best to not think that way. If I did, _when_ I did, my mind did strange, troubling things.

I sighed again and cocked my head to the left. I hadn't noticed before, but now that I had felt through the hospital for the dead, I was aware of several heartbeats somewhere beneath us, a small group of survivors who had somehow managed to separate themselves from the hungry corpses. I smiled.

A plan was already beginning to form in my mind. After all, Nagihiko could very well be right-maybe the dead that surrounded the hospital didn't need to see to hunt. If that were so, a few expendable lives might come in handy. It would be simple to distract the mob with a warm, living body, watch them swarm around their victim, and then make use of the empty space they left behind.

My smile widened into a grin. The only flaw with my plan, really, was Nagihiko-Nagihiko who always hesitated to do the smart thing, the most efficient thing. Nagihiko who thought all life was sacred for some inexplicable reason. Never mind that their lives would save his. No, Nagihiko had _morals_. So did I, but Nagihiko's life was more important than any amount of strangers' lives could ever be. Besides, if I had learned one thing over the years, it was that no one was innocent. The lost of life was regrettable, but I doubted it was ever undeserved. Nagihiko, on the other hand, _was_ an innocent, so if people had to die to save him, so be it.

"Come on." I stood, pulling him up with me. "I have an idea."

Nagihiko eyed me warily. "Yeah?"

"Yes. But first we need to rescue the survivors in the hospital."

Freezing, Nagihiko tipped his head back and smelled the air, gagged, and tried again. Though he wasn't shifted, his sense of smell was still better than a human's. His eyes widened. "Holy shit, Irony," he said, "there are people _alive_ down there."

"Yes, hence the rescue."

"How many, exactly?" He was looking at me again, and the first inkling of suspicion was beginning to dawn on his face. He knew me well enough to sense my manipulation. Maybe he even suspected I planned to let these people die, but he wouldn't accuse me of it-not until he was sure. Which meant I better save their asses before even hinting I planned to use them to help get us out of here.

"There are eleven," I answered after a moment, pausing to count the assorted pulses beating somewhere below us. "They may be sick or injured," I added.

He blinked. "You can tell that from their heart rates?"

"Not really." I grinned at him. "Their hearts are all beating much to fast-panic, I suppose. But they're in a hospital. Chances are at least some of them were here to be patched up."

"Oh." He pushed his hair out of his face, his eyes becoming vague and thoughtful. "So long as some of them are healthy, we should be able to manage."

"True enough," I said. "Let's go."

Getting into the hospital was simple enough. Only a few zombies had managed to make their way out onto the first level of the roof where they had congealed around the ladder we had come up on. When we hurried through the hospital halls, we came across several more but still not as many as I would have expected. Confusion and uncertainty made me tense, and I looked around as we walked down the final flight of stairs.

"What is it?" Nagihiko's quiet voice startled me though I made no outward sign of my surprise.

"Don't you think there should have been more?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "If they don't need sight to hunt, most of them are probably gathered near wherever the survivors are."

His answer startled me. I realized after a moment, though, he was probably correct about their location even if he was wrong about the "why" of it. Humans are not the quietest of creatures when they're frightened. They scream, they sob, they moan-even when trying to be quiet, their breath comes in helpless, horrified gasps, simple for a predator to hear and follow. Even now, when I stopped to listen, I could hear the murmur of voices, the occasional whimper, and above it all the pointless moaning of the dead and the scratching of ceaseless fingers.

"I think you're right," I said.

We had reached the bottom of the stairs, but I hesitated to open the door. Somewhere down that hall could be any number of zombies, and if they saw us, smelled us, heard us-whatever-they would swarm. I was fast and quite adept at using my knives, but if there were enough of them, they would surge past me and attack Nagihiko. And all it took was one bite. Just one, and I would lose him because he wasn't like me-he didn't have necromancy to make him immune. Of course, I could leave Nagihiko here, hidden in the stairwell, but that presented its own danger. I hadn't killed all the zombies in the upper floors-I could hear them stumbling about. If I left Nagihiko here, he would be vulnerable to anything that managed to find its way downstairs. Not an inviting prospect. Still, it was the most viable option, the one least likely to end with Nagihiko dead. I was going to have to take the chance.

"Okay." I turned to Nagihiko. "You need to stay here until I clear the hall."

His eyes widened though his expression was resigned-he had learned a long time ago arguing with me is futile. "And if anything comes?" he asked.

"Scream for me and hold it off as best as you can until I get there."

He nodded, and I smiled, leaving the stairwell. The hall stretched before me, long and dark. I could hear both the living humans and the zombies better now, though I still couldn't see them. I guessed the survivors had holed up in a room on the other side of the receptionist's desk. I sighed, pulled my blades free from their sheathes.

And, oh, there they were.

The zombies were a seething mass pressed against a single door, their mouths gnashing at the air as their hands clawed and scrabbled. Inside the room someone was weeping. The cries weren't those of a person in terror, however, but someone in pain.

I frowned. I had expected injuries and sickness, but a part of me had still assumed I could just walk all these people out of here. Not that I needed to. To accomplish what I was planning, all I needed were five or so warm bodies. Those who couldn't walk could stay here.

But I was getting ahead of myself. First I needed to get inside that room.

Gripping my knives tighter, I began making my way down the hall. The zombies didn't look at me at first. Sounds attracted them more than smell it would seem, and I was quiet. But of course once I was close enough, a few began to turn and reached for me with pale hands. One grabbed hold of my wrist before I could react, and I froze for a single moment just like every other time the undead managed to touch me, and my human side-the girl who wasn't born with necromancy-kicked into full gear. We stared at one another, or so it seemed to my panic addled mind, and then my body moved and my knife was swinging upward and blood splattered.

My mind caught up with the rest of me then, and I hacked apart the closest one before it had a chance to curl its fingers into my flesh. Because they were packed together, killing them was both easy and difficult. Easy because they came to me willingly, their glazed eyes blind to the glint of my knives and their blood, and difficult because I had to be faster and more agile to avoid their grasping hands and gnashing teeth. The hall made this harder than it should have been. I destroyed them, though, my knives slashing into heads and limbs, either killing or incapacitating. Even as I cut them apart, the others who were closer to the door never saw me, never stopped moaning in their hunger for the warmth of flesh that cowered so close, so unreachably close. There was no sound as I killed them, nothing apart from that moaning and the soft _whump_ of their bodies as they collapsed onto the bloody tile floor.

It didn't take long at all, and as soon as they were dead, I ran back to where I had left Nagihiko. No point in leaving him in the stairwell any longer than necessary.

"shit," he said when he saw the bodies strewn across the hall. "There were a lot."

I didn't answer, already knocking on the door. "Hello? Is anyone in there? It's safe to come out." I could hear a scurry of movement and then the door opened and a girl peered out at me, her purple eyes tense and suspicious.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked.

I sneered. "Hardly." I pushed by her, pulling Nagihiko into the room with me.

Most of the people in the room were gathered around the bed, some sitting cross legged on the floor, others standing. There was a small group in the corner of the room, too, the focus of which was a dark haired boy who appeared to be sleeping or unconscious though he shook with the fine tremors of a fever that burned too hot. The girl who had opened the door was crouched down beside him, and now, looking at her, I realized she was older than I had thought. She glared back at me, eyes narrowed, angry, and I turned away from her and to the bed.

The sobbing from before was heart wrenching this close, and I looked at the boy on the bed, trying not to feel guilty. He was young, twelve or so, blond haired and blue-eyed and missing half of his right arm. What was left of it had been bandaged haphazardly-obviously not the work of a doctor, though at least the boy wasn't going to bleed to death. Someone had not only tied a tourniquet around his upper arm, but the stump had been cauterized as well.

"Please." His voice broke and he whimpered. He looked at me, his eyes washed over with tears. "Please help me."

I stared back at him, feeling sick despite myself, and a terrible thought occurred to me. "Did-did one of the-"

"No." The interruption came from the boy lying in the corner. Ah, so not as unconscious as I had assumed. I turned to him and his dark eyes locked into mine with all the intensity the feverish seem to have. And he _was_ sick. His face and hair were slick with sweat, his body trembled, his breath came in wheezing gasps. But his eyes-fever bright and a blue so dark it could almost be black-were filled with complete awareness. "No," he said again. "He came here like that. Only people were already turning, and the doctors never got a chance to look at him."

He spoke with total surety, and none of the others contradicted him, so I accepted his explanation, sheathing the blade I had drawn. If the boy _had_ been bitten, his arm torn off by the gnawing mouths of the dead, the best thing to have done would have been to plunge the knife into his skull.

Shivering, the dark haired boy turned away from me, his eyes closed.

Nagihiko had moved past me and now stood next to the injured boy's bed, his slim hands stroking the pale hair. "Rima," he said, "we could at least try to find some painkillers. And maybe a fever reducer. For him." He tipped his head in the direction of the boy trembling in the corner.

I narrowed my eyes. "We don't have time for that. More are coming. We need to leave now, Nagihiko."

He looked up, and for the first time in a long time, I realized he wasn't going to give in and obey. Instead his jaw set, and he took the boy's remaining hand into his own. "I won't leave them, and I won't drag them out of here to run for their lives, not like this."

"We can carry them!" This from the woman who had answered the door and was now crouched beside the sick boy. She took a hold of his shoulder, rousing him a little, and he moaned. "If we're carrying them, we don't need to worry about finding drugs, and we can leave now."

"Utau." The boy stirred, turned over, and clutched at her hand, his glittering eyes wide. "Utau, _no_."

The woman-Utau-smoothed his hair out of his face. "It'll be fine. Once we get away to somewhere safe, you both can rest, and-"

"_You might as well leave us here to die_."

Raising his voice seemed to exhaust him, and he slumped back, panting. "What if infection set in, huh?" he asked the ceiling. "What are you going to do for Hikaru then? Chop off more of him?"

"He's right," said a man, the oldest person in the room. "Infection, shock-these are both very real possibilities, and I'm not going to let my nephew die when the solution is right here in this damn building. And as for him"-he pointed at the wheezing boy-"do you really want to take him out of here and stand helpless as his fever gets worse? We have no idea where we're going-we could end up in a cave somewhere for all we know. Do you want to watch what happens when the damp sets into his lungs? He's your brother, Utau. Do you want to watch him die when you could have saved him?"

Utau didn't answer, and I glared at Nagihiko. He stared back, unblinking, and I swallowed down a snarl. "I'll find the damn drugs, then," I said. _And enough sedatives to shut up our bothersome sickly friend with his goddamn logic_.

I glanced at him and was surprised to see he was watching me, his eyes half open but aware. Despite myself, I looked away and hurried to leave the room. Ridiculous, of course. So ridiculous. He was just a child, hardly any older than the boy sobbing behind me. Sixteen, maybe. Little more than an infant. And not only that, he was too sick to stand, to sit up without assistance, even. There was no logical reason why the weight of his gaze should feel so heavy, like the press of necromantic power on my mind, but it was.

Of course, the boy wasn't a necromancer-I would have felt it if he were-but I suspected he wasn't normal, either.

And that could prove dangerous. He had already undercut my plan once-and the way he had _looked_ at me. That was really why I was edgy, wasn't it? The grim, perceptive defiance in his blue eyes. He _knew_. I don't know how, but he _knew_, knew what I was planning, was perhaps telling them all now with me out of the room.

"Little monster," I whispered.

He was jeopardizing Nagihiko, eating up our time with his pleas, willing to jeopardize everyone to save himself and the boy named Tadase.

And because of this Nagihiko could die.

"No." I clutched the doorknob I had started to turn. "No, I won't let him. I won't let him kill Nagihiko. I'll let him bleed out first, cut his throat and drain him." My entire body had gone rigid, my teeth grinding, inaudible beneath the roaring that filled my head.

I hated him, I realized, the boy curled up in the corner whose name I didn't even know, and I would kill him, too, if he presented me with any more problems.

How simple that would be.

I found myself grinning when I came across the room where the various drugs were kept. Not because I had succeeded-and much more quickly than I had expected-but because I could see in perfect detail splashed across my vision the boy crumpled on the floor, no longer shivering with fever but instead still with death, and Nagihiko, _Nagihiko_ standing over him. Angry, of course angry, and furious I have done it, mourning the stranger's death, but _alive_ and _safe_.

This is what mattered more than anything. This is what I would kill for, die for if I had to. Dying was a last choice option, though, because without me to protect him, Nagihiko would be all the more vulnerable to those who wished him harm.

Just as he was vulnerable now.

I swallowed hard, panic gripping me, and grabbed various drugs and syringes and capsules, then stuffed them into the bag I had slung over my shoulder.

"Sedatives," I muttered. That was what I needed, enough sedatives to keep the dark-eyed boy quiet, always assuming he hadn't already managed to ruin everything with the knowledge he shouldn't have but did. And if he _had_ already managed to tell the ten other people in that room-eleven including Nagihiko-what I was planning to do…

Well, the sedatives could then be used to enact a more permanent silence.

When I got back, though, the boy was asleep, curled up against his sister. I smiled at her, wanting her trust since I didn't have her brother's. "Hey," I said when she smiled back. "How is he?"

She blinked and looked down at the boy. "He's not so good," she said after a moment. Her eyes came back to mine. "They said there was a chance he could die. The doctors, I mean, even before all _this_. I don't really know if the drugs are even going to help him."

"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to try." I gave him two injections, prepared to explain away the second one with a lie since I doubted Utau would appreciate the fact I was giving her sick brother sedatives he didn't need, but she didn't question it. I suppose in her mind I had taken the position of "doctor," and people so rarely questioned the authority of a doctor.

I was sure, however, the boy did, that he took great pleasure in questioning any kind of authority.

"What's his name?" I asked, not because I cared but because I knew Utau would appreciate my asking-humans are hopelessly sentimental.

"Hikaru"

I blinked then rolled my eyes. "Utau and Hikaru. Go figure."

She grinned at this.

Nagihiko was glaring at me when I finished, and I scowled back. "What?"

"You gave _him_ two shots, too," he said, voice low, stabbing a finger in the direction of the corner where Utau was trying-unsuccessfully, thank God-to get her brother to wake up. "What did you do, Rima?"

My scowl deepened. "Why do you care?"

"_Because_-" The others in the room were staring at us, and Nagihiko shifted, looked at the floor, and dropped the volume to a much more appropriate whisper. "Because you're up to something. I know you, Rima, and I know that whatever you're planning, you thought he would interfere. I don't know _why_, but I know you're threatened by him so you're trying to remove him from the picture."

I scoffed at the cliché, but he ignored me.

"I also know-and you should, too-that whatever the hell it is you're planning, you don't need some sick human kid to fucking you over, 'cause I have no problem with keeping you from hurting anyone here."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" His voice had gone shrill and everyone was looking at us again, but this time Conan was too worked up to notice. "You always do this kind of shit. You think everyone exists just so you can use them for whatever goal you have at the moment. You don't think anyone _matters_."

"I think _you_ matter!"

That stopped him, and now he stared at me, his eyes wide. "Don't say that."

I laughed, incredulous. Nagihiko was always trying to wring affection out of me, and now when I grant him something of my own free will, he didn't want it? "You can't be serious."

"Hell, _yes_, I'm serious! Are you insane?" He held up a hand before I could say anything. "Don't answer that."

"Nagihiko," I said, not bothering to talk in a whisper anymore since everyone was already paying attention to this little conversation. "Listen. I'm not sure what you think I'm going to do or why, but rest assured it's all for _you_."

He laughed and looked up at me, green eyes wide and glazed with hurt. I felt that familiar clench in my stomach. I hated it when I caused Nagihiko pain. "That's the problem, Irony, you know? I don't want you to put this onto me like you're making some huge sacrifice for my sake."

"It's true-"

"_No, goddamnit, it isn't!_" He stopped, took a shaky breath, and rubbed at his eyes. "God, Rima, you don't get it. They mean nothing to you but they mean something to me. Maybe you're willing to make a sacrifice of a few people you don't know"-his lips twisted into a sneer, mocking me for my callousness-"but I'm not, and I can't stand that you think you're doing this for me, that you _are_ doing this for me. It makes me sick."

I just stared at him. The room had gone silent, and I felt uncertainty creep into my stomach and settle in. What in God's name was I supposed to do now?

"I don't understand." Tadase's uncle was speaking now, his eyes narrowed. "What, exactly, were you planning to do?" I didn't answer and his eyes narrowed further. "You bitch. You were never here to help us at all. What are we to you? Bait? You were just going to use us-incapacitated children and all-as _bait_?"

"To save Nagihiko? Absolutely."

The man was grinding his teeth now and his entire expression contorted with so much anger to rival even me on one of my bad days. "He's one person. You have no right to weigh his life against ours. Against my _nephew's_. He nearly died because of those things today, and if Hikaru hadn't-" He broke off and just looked at me, and it took me a moment to realize what he had just said.

"_They_ did that to his arm?" I phrased it like a question even though I already knew the answer. "He's going to turn, you idiots!"

The man scowled. "If he was going to turn, don't you think he should have by now?"

"It doesn't matter if it hasn't happened yet-the infection is always fatal. They always turn, and considering what those things have done to him, he's obviously endured more than one bite." I pulled a blade from a sheath. "We need to kill him before he attacks anyone else."

"God damn it, no." The man grabbed my wrist, panic and fury warring on his face. "Only one bit him. We…stopped the infection from spreading."

I stared at him, not catching what he meant for one long, embarrassing moment, then-"Oh my god. _You_ cut off his arm."

"Hikaru understood what was happening long before we did. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's been expecting something like this for a while now. He was with Tadase when the zombie bit him, and he told us the only way to save his life was to remove the infected limb before the virus or whatever it is had a chance to spread. I wasn't…I didn't believe him. Not really." He swallowed, dropped my hand. "But you've confirmed his theory."

I glanced over at Hikaru who, to my shock, was awake again, though he didn't have the same degree of awareness he did before. Clearly, however, I had messed up the dosage I meant to give him. His eyes were glazed, half open, but he was still watching me, waiting for my reaction, maybe, wondering if I was going to kill the boy he had tried to save through an unimaginable act of cruelty.

I shuddered and looked away. "This is insane. How do you people expect to leave here, exactly? There are thirteen of us, two unable to move on their own."

To my exasperation, they all looked at Hikaru-even Nagihiko-as if he had some magical answer. He blinked at them, then sighed. "Yaya's coming. We should wait."

"_Yaya_?" For the first time that night real panic swept across the man's face. "God. How do you know? Are you sure? What the fuck is she _thinking_. She could _die_." He was shaking from what seemed to be a combination of anger and fear, and I felt a brief surge of sympathy for him. This was how Conan made me feel all the time.

"Is she your wife?" I asked, because it was the strongest bond I could think of, but he shot me a strange look.

"She's my daughter. And if she-" He choked back some emotion I couldn't place. "If she makes it here, I'm going to kill her myself."

Hikaru grinned. "She'll make it. In fact, she's probably already here." He sounded more awake and alive than he had the whole time I'd been there, and when I met his gaze, not only was that frightening awareness back, he looked smug and triumphant, too, his eyes bright with delirious joy.

That was when the door slammed open.

I jumped, startled, as did everyone else in the room with the exception of Hikaru who didn't seem surprised at all, and I wondered if I had really been distracted enough to forget to barricade the door. The girl standing there, however, wasn't a zombie, but I couldn't help but think perhaps a zombie would have been preferable considering the fact Hikaru was thrilled to have her here.

"Hi," she said, then grinned.

She had the same mocking, self-contented smile Hikaru had, and I hated her already.

"Yaya..." Her father looked torn between anger and relief, then, sighing, settled for relief. That didn't stop him from expressing his obvious displeasure, though. "What in God's name were you thinking?"

"Me?" She laughed. "I wasn't thinking anything in God's name, personally. That would be weird." Her gaze drifted over to Hikaru and something flickered over her face before it disappeared a moment later. "Hey, are you alright?"

He reached out a hand to her and she took it, crouching down in front of him so they were eye to eye.

"There were two ways this day could have ended," he said. "Only two, and one of them ended in a lot of death and blood, and it ended without you. Now you're here." He smiled again. "Everything's going to be fine."

"You're a psychic," I said.

Most of the others in the room looked at me like I was crazy, but Yaya and Hikaru both met my gaze, and neither denied it. Well. That explained a lot. He had known what I was planning because he had seen it, had seen some future in which my actions caused the deaths of many of the survivors, and he had been fighting to keep that from happening. I could almost feel sorry for him. Knowledge like that, it couldn't be easy, especially if you knew and yet nothing you did or said could stop it from coming to pass.

"Great," I muttered. "Just great. This still doesn't solve anything, though-we're still trapped. Nothing has changed except now we have one extra person to try to get out of here alive. What exactly do you expect we're going to do?"

The corner of Hikaru's mouth quirked upward as he fought another smug smile. "Don't ask me-ask her."

I looked at Yaya who stood up, swiped a strand of orange hair behind her ear, and then grinned.

"Don't worry. I have a plan."

* * *

**Ahhh! The love of AU. Yeah, I was inspired by zombieland, but it's not at all like it. No twinkies are involed, sorry.**

**Yeah Rima & Nagihiko, friendship. **

**Whatever, review? I like feedback.**

**xoxo**

**Emily.**


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